Mated to the Warrior Beast

167 Hot & Cold – Part 3*

~ HARTH ~

Normally that first joining was a singular pleasure, a slow rush that she felt from her scalp to her toes, but this time, as he growled her name and took her, over and over, each thrust harder and faster than the one before, the rush didn’t stop. She was climbing, already climbing towards that peak, that glittering wave.

“Tark…. Tarkyn…” her voice was high, quavering, but she couldn’t care. She gripped him, one hand fisted in his hair, the other curled around his bicep to give her leverage to arch against him.

“I need you,” he groaned, his jaw tight and eyes fierce on her. “I can’t stop, Harth—I will—”

“Don’t stop… don’t stop!” she gasped, her body clenching around him, her breath tearing in and out of her throat, her skin pebbled from her neck to her knees. “Don’t stop Tarkyn!”

Her cry was desperate and frail, her body shaking with pleasure and the anguish of beckoning desire.

With a growl so deep it seemed to come from the stones beneath them, Tarkyn locked eyes with her, then dragged one hand down, over her breast to her waist, first pinning her down as he thrust, then sliding his hand around to lift her hip to meet his next thrust.

When the angle changed, Harth’s body—already shivering and tingling with pleasure—came alive in a whole new way. She clapped one hand to his back as she arched, her mouth open and breath sawing.

“Mine… my mate…” Harth snarled.

.....

“Yes.”

“Only mine—forever, Harth, promise me!”

“Yes!” she clenched again, the fire in his eyes—possessive, demanding—lashing her like a whip as he raked his gaze from her face, down her body, to watch them join, picking up the pace until she could do nothing but cling and cry, her body quivering under the assault of him as he shoved her over the edge of pleasure and plummeted her down into freefall, crying his name, her nails digging into his back.

Then, with a guttural roar he plunged into her one more time, his body rigid and trembling, slick marble in the firelight as he came apart in her arms.

Both of them were frozen in the moment, waves of pleasure coursing through Harth’s blood, the matebond singing with joy. It was a vision of her mate that she would never forget, his skin lit from behind by the glow of the fire so that he seemed laced in gold, his head thrown back, the cords on his neck standing proud, chest and arms rippling with the tension of holding himself in check so he didn’t hurt her, their bodies joined in heat and love—the sheer pleasure of it all so overwhelming it threatened to bring tears.

Then they crashed, groaning, as Tarkyn slumped over her, catching his weight on one elbow so he didn’t crush her, but panting so hard his breath thundered in her ear.

Harth, trembling, wrapped her arms around his great shoulders, and her legs around his waist and pulled him down so that he covered her completely.

“Just rest… please… rest on me,” she whispered, kissing his stubbled jaw and blinking back tears.

He growled like he might protest, but then cupped one hand over her hair, sliding the other under her neck so that he cradled her head, then resting his forehead against her temple so his breath washed over her cheek.

“I love you, Harth… so much…” he rasped. “I can’t—”

“I know… me too,” she said, tightening her grip on him and burying her face in his shoulder.

They lay that way for a long time, but it was Tarkyn who finally drew back far enough to look at her, stroking trembling fingers through her hair.

“Are you okay?”

She smiled sadly. “Yes. Just… sad it’s over.”

He flashed her a grin. “We have a long night ahead.”

Harth smiled and stroked his face. “Just as long as you get enough rest. I’m… nervous about tomorrow. And we have to start early.”

He sighed heavily, but nodded. “Are you… how are you feeling about going back?”

“I’m just really, really glad you’re going with me. But it’s not going to be easy, Tarkyn. He wants you to come without your vows. He wants you to—”

“Don’t. Just… don’t think about it yet,” he said, laying a finger to her lips to stop her. “In the morning when we’re walking, we’ll figure it all out. But for now… For now let’s just be here.”

Harth sighed, but nodded. And when he lay over her again, she pushed away the fears and worries of the day to come, and instead just focused on the warm strength of him, pressing her into the furs.

Eventually they had to move, but Tarkyn finally rolled off of her reluctantly, then immediately pulled her against his side so that he lay on his back with her curled against him, using his bicep as a pillow, her knee over his thigh, and one arm extended over his chest.

He trailed his fingers on the skin of her upper arm, staring at the ceiling of the cave, his face serious.

“Are you afraid?” she asked finally, whispering because she was.

He shook his head. “Not of the Chimera. Not even of Zev. I’m just… I fear being taken from you,” he said, with a rough clear of his throat as if it had cost him to admit it.

But Harth just nodded. That was exactly what she feared too. And she knew it was selfish. She knew that what they were going to do was important. So important. She should have felt honored—or at least, single minded about it.

And yet, as she played her fingers over his pec, teasing a finger over one nipple, then tracing his collarbone, it wasn’t fear of Zev that made her stomach tighten.

It was the warm, solid certainty that she was there in the arms of the male who had been made for her—and she for him. Knowing she’d never felt more content, or more loved.

It was the best feeling in the world.

And the most terrifying. Because she knew what life without that was like.

And she never wanted to go back.